


Keeping Score

by kat_fanfic



Series: Malex Relay One Shots [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Acetone Consumption, Alien Powers, BAE Alex, BAMF Isobel Evans, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Hurt Michael Guerin, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, POV Alex Manes, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Scheming sister Isobel, cursing, slight angst, slight injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28858773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_fanfic/pseuds/kat_fanfic
Summary: An accident at the junkyard reveals some truths.or:Isobel is a meddling meddler that meddles
Relationships: (Past) Alex Manes/Forrest Long, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Malex Relay One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116296
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128





	Keeping Score

“You could look a little more enthusiastic, you know.”

Alex sighed, stepping out of the car after making sure with a quick glance that his right foot would land on even ground. His stump had been bothering him lately and the last thing he wanted was take a spill in front of his ex-boyfriend’s sister. “I’m really not sure why you dragged me out here, Isobel,” he said, squinting into the late afternoon sun. 

Summer was coming to an end, but still the air had that desert quality to it, a dry heat that made the horizon shimmer with it. 

“Ah, see, if I’d told you my plan before, you’d probably have told me to duck off, so…” She smiled at him, in that shark-like way she had.

Alex shook his head. “Duck off?” he repeated, incredulous.

She waved vaguely. “It’s a Rosa thing, forget it. Anyway, I needed backup, so that’s where you come in.”

“Backup.” There was a sinking feeling in Alex’s gut. 

“Yup,” she popped the p, squinting at him as if he was a specimen under a microscope and she had him pretty much figured out. 

He didn’t like it when Liz looked at him like that, he liked it even less when Isobel did.

“See, I need to get my dear brother to attend his own birthday party, and who better to accomplish this with than the very man he’s trying so hard to avoid that he’d break his sister’s heart to do it. Right?” She gave him hardly more than a moment for that to sink in. “Right. So why don’t we-“

There was a crash, a sharp cry in a voice that was all too familiar, and Alex started running. The prosthesis bit into his muscles with every step, hit nerve endings that weren’t supposed to be hit, but he ignored the sharp pain with the ease of long experience. 

Turning around a corner with Isobel right behind him, Alex skidded to an abrupt halt that almost made him lose his balance when she couldn’t stop fast enough and bumped into him.

“What the-?” she began to ask, but none of Alex’ attention was on her.

He was staring at the prone form of Michael Guerin laying half-buried under something that vaguely looked like one of Liz’s lab machines. The bulk of it seemed to have caught on the remains of a gutted old jeep, but there was a sharp corner that sat on Michael’s lower belly, biting into him. Blood was already pooling underneath him and there was a bleeding gash on his forehead, red trickling into his locks. 

“Oh, god,” Alex moaned. He fell gracelessly to his knees, his hands hovering over the other man, afraid to touch and cause more hurt. Not for the first time, he wished for Max’s power of healing. Or at least some telekinesis, he really wasn’t picky.

Michael stirred then, the soft sound of pain he made cutting into Alex as if it was his own. “… Alex?” The voice was raspy and barely there, and still it was the best thing Alex had heard in a long time. 

He leaned over Michael, blocking the sun for him with the bulk of his body. “Hey,” he murmured and brought a hand up to push back sweat-damp locks from his face. “Stay still, okay? You got knocked around a bit by a wild piece of machinery, but Isobel and I will take care of you.”

“Iz,” Michael groaned, his face a mask of pained confusion. “Wha’happened?”

“Something fell on you,” Alex repeated, softly, sharing a worried glance with Isobel.

Michael coughed and shuddered, his face a pained grimace. “Tried to get the DNA sequencer off the mount. Got distracted.” His hand was wandering down, towards the place where metal met skin. 

“Hey, no.” Alex grabbed it, intertwining their fingers before Michael could make contact. “You really don’t want to do that, believe me.”

Isobel made a soft sound. Alex glanced up at her, but she was staring intently at the strange machine as if she could lift it with the force of her will alone. Which, yeah, okay, she actually could. “Don’t,” he said to her, loud enough that Michael flinched in reaction. 

Alex squeezed his hand in apology, but his focus was on a stubborn-looking Isobel. “If you lift it off and it opens the wound, he could bleed out before we can even get him off the ground.”

She blanched visibly. “Shit,” she breathed.

“’s not so bad.” Michael had turned his face towards them. He looked more alert now, even as sweat beaded on his temples and his breath was fast and unsteady. “Jus’ get that thing off me, Isobel.”

She shook her head, fingers already darting over the touch screen of her pone. “Alex is right. We need to get some help before I do that. At least Kyle-“

Michael shook his head, squinting up at them. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Guerin, Jesus,” Alex started, but Michael had already stopped listening. 

Before either he or Isobel could react, Michael had grabbed onto the machine with his powers, lifting it off with a strangled moan of either pain or effort. Halfway through, he faltered, making the machine tilt dangerously towards them. With a sharp curse, Isobel took over, grabbing hold of it and hovering it safely out of the way.

“Goddamn stubborn asshat of a brother,“ she muttered, and while Alex whole-heartedly agreed, there were more important things to do than find creative names for reckless aliens.

There wasn’t an immediate gush of fresh blood from the belly wound, which Alex knew could either be a good or A Very Bad thing. “I knew you were obstinate, but I didn’t know you were suicidal,” he murmured, trying to keep Michael from moving. 

“’m not,” Michael murmured, having the audacity to grin up at him from where he still lay prone. “It’s alright, I swear. Just a flesh wound.”

Alex shared an exasperated glance with Isobel. “Just a flesh wound, he says. A flesh wound that could kill you, shithead.”

“Not likely, it barely cut the skin. I’ll probably bruise like a peach in July, but what else is new.”

Alex snorted, some of the adrenaline fading from his blood at hearing the jovial tone. It left a bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat. “And since when are you the authority on impact wounds? You could have internal bleeding, you know.”

“Nah. I’m too important to perish like this. I’ll either go down in a blaze of glory or die of old age.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex grabbed onto him when he tried to sit up and faltered halfway through. “I told you to lie still, cowboy, or you’ll have your showdown sooner than you’d like. 

Michael chuckled softly, and then groaned in pain. “Any chance you got some acetone on you?” he asked Isobel, looking dismayed when she shook her head. 

Alex sighed. “Check my truck,” he murmured. When two pairs of eyes looked at him with equal amounts of astonishment, he rolled his own. “I’m surrounded by aliens with superpowers who for some reason think that self-sacrifices and half-cocked missions are a great way to spend their free time. So yeah, I have a few bottles of acetone in my glove box, sue me.”

“I’ll get it,” Isobel said, and it was a sign of her worry that she didn’t even comment on Alex’s admittedly questionable life choices. 

“You know, lugging that stuff around in a moving vehicle is kinda dangerous. It’s wicked flammable.” His words were teasing, but Michael’s eyes were soft as he looked at him. 

“I’ll give you flammable, jackass,” Alex muttered, pushing up the hem of Guerin’s shirt, checking the skin surrounding the wound for discoloration. Michael had been right, the injury wasn’t as bad as it had looked at first glance. Relief flooded him and he couldn’t help but send a little prayer of thanks to whatever deities were watching over truculent alien men-children. 

“That’s the second time now you’ve insulted me. I think I liked it better when you were all worried and gentle.”

Alex glanced up, letting Michael see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Is that why you’ve thrown yourself under DIY lab tech? To get me to be worried?”

“Nah.” Michael’s tone was light, but his eyes didn’t quite meet his. “Wouldn’t want to give the boyfriend any more reason to hate me.”

Alex frowned, sitting back a little and stifling a soft hiss of pain. His leg was seriously starting to cramp up and he knew he had to get up soon or risk being unable to move at all later. “Forrest doesn’t hate you.”

Now it was Michael’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t. Which is why he avoids me like the plague and looks at me like I’m the devil incarnate ever since you two got together.”

Alex was spared from having to answer when Isobel got back with some of his emergency acetone. “Seriously, Alex?” she asked as she handed Michael one. “Sixteen bottles? You have enough nail polish remover in there to throw an alien bender or two.”

New heat flushed his face and Alex cleared his throat uncomfortably. “It was on sale,” he murmured, sounding unconvincing even to his own ears.

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever, Manes.” Isobel smile was wide and toothy, and she looked like a shark as she gave him a calculating look. He couldn’t help but feel like he had made a tactical mistake sometime between letting her talk him into this and caring for her injured brother.

Michael had chugged the first bottle and was making grabby hands at Isobel for a second one. To Alex’s surprise, she just gave him a look and a raised eyebrow. “You sure?”

Guerin made a small, discontented noise, but let his hand fall. 

She gave him a cheery smile. “Attaboy,” she said. “You need help getting up?”

To Alex’s surprise, Guerin nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured, shooting a telling glance at him. “I believe we both do.”

Opening his mouth to protest, Alex thought it over and then snapped it shut. 

Michael snorted. “That’s what I thought.”

Isobel looked at both of them in turn. “Ready?”

Alex had barely time to nod before he felt her telekinesis wrap itself around him and lift him up. It was different than Michael’s, he noted absently. Rougher somehow, not as smooth. She was a blunt instrument, while Guerin had had years to fine-tune his gift.

He grunted as she plopped him unceremoniously onto his feet, his right leg rather unhappy with having to carry his weight again. Sighing, he resigned himself to an evening spent icing his stump and working through some exercises his physical therapist had shown him, whereas Michael, the man who had just lost a fight with about two hundred pounds worth of haphazardly cobbled together lab equipment, looked like he was ready for a wild night at the Pony. 

It really was unfair how fast aliens bounced back from injury, Alex thought, giving Guerin a disgruntled look. Not that he’d prefer seeing him in pain, but sometimes he wished there was some magic potion he could take, one that didn’t include the risk of addiction and organ damage like his prescription painkillers did. 

Although, from what he’d just seen, it looked like there was more to the aliens’ acetone consumption than he’d originally thought. He snuck a quick glance at Michael. It _had_ been a while since he’d seen Guerin on a real binge, or drink at all really, and that seemed to include acetone consumption. It surprised him, to have missed something that now seemed blatantly obvious, but then again, it had been a while since he’d even seen Guerin outside of alien mission related stuff.

Idly, he wondered what else he’d missed while he’d been playing house with Forrest these last few months. 

Guerin, of course, was oblivious to his thoughts, too busy dusting off his beloved black cowboy hat and bitching at his sister for not being careful enough with his equipment. “It’s taken me weeks to scrounge up the parts for this,” he grumbled, hat hiding the bloody gash on his hairline from view and looking almost completely recovered. 

Almost. 

He seemed fine at first glance, sure, but Alex knew that stance, could see how he stood cocked at the hip, even more so than usual, and he saw the tension lines around his eyes. Lines he knew all too well. 

Isobel, who had skillfully ignored her brother’s ill-tempered complaints, looked at both of them in turn, lips pursed. “Huh,” she said, and then she pressed another bottle of acetone in Alex’s hand. “Be a doll and stash this in the trailer for Mr. Ungrateful here, yeah, just in case he needs it later? I wish I could stay and supervise him myself, but I gotta run, I have another appointment which I’m already late for.” 

“But I’m your ride,“ Alex said, frowning.

She didn’t even pause. “Yeah, uh, Kyle is coming to pick me up and I think I can hear his car coming up the driveway. Feel better, Michael, bye!” She was gone before either of them could comment on the fact that there was no sight of Kyle anywhere.

Michael snorted, watching his sister’s retreating back with rueful amusement. “That was her being subtle, by the way,” he murmured. “Just in case you were wondering.”

Alex laughed softly, unable not to, even as butterflies woke in his stomach. Jesus, almost twelve years and that feeling still came over him whenever it was just the two of them alone together. “Yeah, well, nobody ever accused Isobel Evan’s of overstaying her welcome, that’s for sure,” he said, trying for a normal tone. He took a cautious step. His hip was decidedly unhappy with him, but he could move and that was the important thing for now. 

“You okay?”

Alex snorted, shook his head. Leave it to Guerin to notice his discomfort. “Nothing some ice won’t cure. Come on, let’s get you settled in the airstream. I’m ready to get out of the sun and I’m sure your high-temperature alien blood must be boiling by now.”

Guerin hesitated, his expression a strange mix of exasperation, concern and something Alex couldn’t quite define. “Look, you don’t have to stay,” he said, not quite looking at Alex. He’d taken his hat off again and was playing with the rim. “I really am fine and I’m sure you’ve got something better planned than watch me put a patch on this scratch and hit the sack early.” He gestured vaguely towards his stomach. 

Alex bit back a grin. This was the second time Michael had fished for information about his relationship, however indirectly. “I don’t, actually,” he murmured, ducking his head to hide the sudden flush in his cheeks from Guerin’s interested gaze. 

“Forrest not waiting for you?”

Finally, a direct question. “Nope,” Alex answered, glib. “Would be weird if he did, to be honest, since we broke up over a month ago.”

“Ah.” Now it was Guerin’s turn to duck his head in a way that could have meant he was glad about this revelation, but there was an unhappy twist to his lips that Alex really didn’t know what to do with. “I’m sorry.”

Huffing out a disbelieving laugh, Alex leaned back against the frame of an old station wagon. “Are you, though?”

Guerin’s head snapped up then, whiskey-colored eyes fierce as they met his in a glare. “Yes, of course I am. Jesus, Alex, I know I’ve been a dick to you in the past, but I do have _some_ shred of human decency.”

He turned to go, expression shuttered, and Alex’s heart clenched in his chest. He was up and in Guerin’s space before the other man had taken more than one step away from him. “Hey, no, that’s not what I meant,” he murmured, his hands cupping Michael’s face, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d pulled their heads together until they stood forehead to forehead, until they had no other choice but to breathe the same air. 

They were close enough that Alex could feel the tension in Michael’s body, could feel how still he had become under his touch. He should let go, he knew that, but selfishly, he let his fingertips brush silken curls, filled his lungs with that familiar scent of ozone as the heat of Michael’s skin seeped into him, into his very bones.

God, he’d missed this.

Michael stirred slightly, not moving away exactly, but not leaning into him either. “We gotta stop doing this, Alex.” His voice was low and rough, as if he’d had to force the words out of his throat. “We gotta stop hurting each other, and I’m not sure how…” He trailed off, shrugging helplessly. 

Alex inched closer. “I do,” he murmured. “And you would too if you had listened to me, really listened, that night at the Pony.”

Michael swallowed, let his hands rest on Alex’s hips. “I did. I did listen.”

“Then you know what to do.” Alex let the corner of his mouth quirk. “Or rather, what _not_ to do.”

“Yeah.” There was a smile then, a real one, and Alex couldn’t help his eyes from dipping down when Michael licked his lips with a quick dart of a pink tongue. “I was never a big fan of keeping score anyway.”

Alex huffed out a soft laugh. “That’s because you hardly ever play by the rules under any circumstance.”

“What can I say, rules are overrated.”

There was only so much flirtatious banter Alex could take in one sitting, so he leaned in close, murmuring a soft, “shut up, you fool,” against Michael’s mouth and then they both moved in. It was like coming home, that first touch of their lips, and Alex sighed, sank into it and into Michael, trusting that he would be caught and held, just as he’d done all those years ago. 

It was a kiss unlike any other they’d ever shared. There was no urgency behind it, no trauma fueling it, no unspoken truths hanging between them, and so for a long time they lost themselves in each other, rekindling the connection between them that Michael had once called cosmic, and that Alex knew meant that they were soulmates. 

When they finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard and they’d somehow wound up leaning against Michael’s DIY lab machine. 

“Airstream, now,” Alex murmured against kiss-swollen lips, giving them a last peck before untangling himself from Michael’s grip. “And just for the record, _I_ will patch you up, mostly because you can’t be trusted to take proper care of yourself.”

“Ha,” Guerin murmured, a grin slowly lighting his face. “Maybe this was all just a ploy to get your hands on me.”

Alex snorted, cursing his face for heating up at the suggestive tone. “If it was, I’d give you extra points for creativity. With some deductions for most of it depending on dumb luck, though.”

“Worked so far.”

Alex rolled his eyes, exasperation warring with giddy amusement. “You’re a menace, Michael Guerin.”

Shrugging, Michael looked at him from under lowered lashes. “Yeah, but you knew that about me,” he drawled. 

Which was very much true. Giving a long-suffering sigh, Alex turned to go, but not without sliding his hand down Michael’s arm and lacing their fingers together. The smile that appeared on Michael’s face then was both new and achingly familiar and Alex was suddenly, fiercely glad that Isobel was such a nosy busy-body. 

He couldn’t be sure that she’d orchestrated this whole thing just for them to get their heads out of their respective asses, of course, but knowing her, he couldn’t rule out the possibility. Not for the first time since learning the alien secret, he was glad that he’d somehow ended up on her side of things - having Isobel Evans as an enemy was a terrifying thought. 

“Oh hey,” he said, a propos of that, tugging on the hand he was holding. “Just so you know, you _are_ going to the Triple Birthday Bash at the Crashdown and you _will_ both have fun and bring a present for your sister.” He’d make sure of that. After all, he thought as he leaned in for a kiss, he owed her one.


End file.
